


wish you weren't gay

by qlossiers



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: M/M, hella angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-23 02:16:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19141555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qlossiers/pseuds/qlossiers
Summary: "jan, you need to fuck off.""i didn't say a word to you"





	wish you weren't gay

**Author's Note:**

> was listening to billie again and this was born xx

i love toby alderweireld.

toby alderweireld does not love me.

i listen to all of his problems.

he turns a blind eye to mine.

i want to hold on to toby.

toby's hands are slipping from mine.

but he's

so perfect.

——————————————————

_baby, i_ _don't_ _feel so good: six words you never understood. i'll never let you go: five words_ _you'll_ _never say._

"chin up, jan, there's always next year," he says. those words are designed to be encouraging, inspiring. but they fall demanding, like he _expects_ next year. he probably does.  
"without you here? never."  
he dismisses the comment, as if he knows, like he doesn't need to respond because it's fact set in stone.

it's hot in our room that night. too hot. and toby exudes heat like a furnace. it's like trying to sleep while your house burns down. i consider going to the spare room where it's colder, but then there would be explanations needed of who i was thinking about, lying there apart from toby. so i suck it up and shuffle closer to toby, carefully putting my hands on his shoulders. i lay my head on his collarbone and wonder what it would be like if he cared. then, he rolls over so he's not facing me any more. not again.

"so, there's man united, and liverpool are looking in as well."  
"right."  
"i mean, i'm looking for somewhere a bit further out, you get me?"  
"yeah." we've had this conversation already a million times over. he's leaving, i know he's leaving. half of me wants him to stay, but the other half envisions a huge weight off my shoulders. i feel like he's purposely trying to upset me, to make me more desperate for him. it's a ruthless game of cat and mouse i have played for too many years now.

——————————————————  
" _i laugh alone like nothing's wrong, four days has never felt so long. if three's a crowd, and two was us, one slipped away_ "

it's nearly time. toby decided that we will spend his last days together. you may think that's sweet, but it's not. he doesn't mean walks on the beach at sunset and sipping vintage champagne at midnight. he means four days of day drinking, toby's hubris and an exhausting amount of sex. basically, i'm all for him.

he takes me away to some strange bar i don't trust. there's something about the atmosphere and the people there that twists my guts. it's dark and dusty and there is no one who isn't high, drunk, or both and fatally so. it's the exact type of people i hate, too. toby orders for me, a habit i have come to despise, and i end up drinking something strange and bitter. i smile at him as i swallow it, trying to taste as little of it as possible. he talks and i laugh and the right times and say the right things.

then i notice something's off. i try to maintain eye contact with him, but his wild eyes divert over my left shoulder more often than not. i check over my shoulder and see exactly what i desperately don't want to: a painfully attractive young man. he's tall and muscular and his dark skin reflects whatever light there is here. he's laughing, and his laugh is gorgeous. and toby wants him now, and what toby wants, he will stop at nothing to get.

"what are you looking at?" toby asks me, grabbing my shoulder.  
"nothing, just the...just the window...just seeing out the window." my body turns cold. now i'm in trouble.

but he only narrows his eyes and hits my knee. he then runs his hand along my thigh, leaning into me until i can smell the unnamed substance we were drinking. i attempt to smile seductively at him. and fail. i feel his hand crawl up my shirt, warm against my cold, shaking body. "everything alright, jan?" he asks. his tone knocks me sick. i want to get out. now.  
"yeah, i'm great. this... place is, uh, nice. and this," i declare, picking up the glass. "this is really good!"  
"bit strong for you?" he laughs.  
"no, no. you know me! i like it strong!" of course, by this, i mean _yes, this is nail varnish remover in a glass, get it away_ _from_ _me_.

——————————————————

" _i_ _can't_ _tell you how much i wish i_ _didn't_ _wanna stay_

 _i just kinda wish you_ _weren't_ _gay._ "

it's the last day. he's going away to manchester and i don't have to drag myself through this pain any longer. but everytime i tell myself this, my heart wrenches. it wasn't until today that it fully set in that he's never, ever coming back. i won't be able to hold him, or kiss him, or have that little hit of joy when he texts me. he's going away forever.

before he goes, i wish he would tell me the truth: that he doesn't really care. i don't even want to know why he did all this to me. i don't care. i just want to hear him say what i already know. i would be able to relax afterwards, knowing that i only lost someone who doesn't love me, while he lost someone who loves him. or, rather, loved.

sometimes, i wish i had never got myself into this web of steel wires. i wish that he had never felt any kind of attraction to me in the first place, because i would rather have dealt with unrequited love for a few months or so than deal with two years of slowly intensifying pain.

sometimes, i wish he wasn't gay.

——————————————————

" _our conversation's all in blue, 11 hey's, ten fingers tearing out my hair"_

i fall asleep, defeated, my phone still inactive in my hand. i don't know why i though it would be a good idea to try and text him. i don't know why i decided to pile all my trust into the minuscule fragment of a chance that he would respond. i guess that i hadn't  noticed how much i need him there until now. i watched the bus go with him as passenger, believing that i wouldn't miss him.

but i do.

oh, i do.

and there's no use wondering of he does too; if he lies awake wishing i was close to him instead of melancholy loneliness enclosing him like a thick smoke.

because he doesn't. if he did, my screen would not be invaded with nothing but blue bubbles full of stupid, sickly hope that a grey one might follow it.

if he did, he wouldn't even need to miss me because he would be here. he would have put me before his goddamn need for a 'challenge' and extended his contract and stayed. he would be here with me.

——————————————————

_"how am i supposed_ _to_ _make you feel okay when all you do is walk the other way?"_

there was one thing i forgot about, like the idiot i am.

national duty.

fuck national duty, i say. now, anyway.

when i got my call-up, my brain flipped over and my heart fell out of my chest. i would have to face him. work with him. pretend nothing ever happened. pretend we're not gay.

i distract myself with my other teammates, engaging in worthless small talk. anything to avert my attention from toby.

we come together for our talk with the coaches and manager, and he doesn't talk to me. we warm up in a little huddle, and he doesn't say a word. we practise our crossing, our reflexes, our possession, and he doesn't come near me. we perfect our set-piece delivery, and he barely graces me with his presence.

i guess it's better that way, but i can't help imagining conversations with him where we clear it all up and make things alright.

——————————————————

" _to give your lack of interest an explanation,_ _don't_ _say i'm not your type. just say i'm not your preferred_ _sexual_ _orientation."_

"jan, you need to fuck off."  
"i didn't say a word to you."

he take out his phone and shows me the messages i sent. "then explain this."  
"i was drunk."  
"no you weren't. you never fucking drink. i paid so much for drinks that you never drank. so why start now?"  
"toby, please understand."  
"i don't know what to believe anymore."  
"believe me! i'm your-" i stop short.  
"my what?" his voice has softened: it is soft and dangerous, like he wants to kill me. he probably does. i need to get away from him, but i'm stuck. fear has rooted me. "we were something, but that's in the past. get over it."

"if i was something to you, then how come you were never fucking there for me?" shit. i wish i hadn't said that. looking at his face, twisted with that devil called hate, i know i've done it now. but it's like a fire, gaining momentum. "tell me the truth, toby."  
"what truth?"  
"you never loved me."  
"i did. stop lying to yourself, dickhead."  
"you loved the sexual attraction we had, and forced it into something it wasn't. you gave me false ideas."  
"what the fuck does that even mean?"  
"i want the truth. the whole truth."  
"i've told you, time and time again."

"toby."  
"what now?"  
"i wish you weren't gay."  
"do i look like a fucking genie to you?"

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: moussasissonko or brendon-exclamationmark-urie


End file.
